I work as a security guard — which allows me to read for 40?hours a week.

When women find out how much money I make, they can barely hide their contempt. I wonder when I’m going to be valued for who I am and not by my ability to be a provider.

Where are all the feminists who are looking for men who view them as equals? Could it be that even feminists are looking for a man to provide for them, and, if they can’t find one, they just do without?

— T.

Dear T: From the facts you have, that narrative is possible.

Here’s another: The women aren’t looking for a man “to provide for them” but instead to pitch in as much financial security as they do.

You took a job that allows you to avoid work, and, although you’re right to pursue what suits you, know that a prospective mate could be turned off by that choice.

And forget that these are tough times, because those pass; these are independent times. Women whose husbands support them represent a fraction of American women. Partnership is key.

Granted, that still somewhat pins your romantic struggles to your income. I can offer another narrative, though, that doesn’t.

A 40-hour-a-week reading habit says yours is a life of the mind, to an unusual degree and at the expense of other ambitions. That’s going to appeal to a specialized woman. If you quadrupled your income, you still wouldn’t suit most women’s tastes, and — more important — most women wouldn’t suit yours.

The attitude that “I’m fine, and they’re all corrupt pseudo-feminists” is counterproductive for all involved. You want people to look past surface qualities to see your true worth, so you’ll need to show that same courtesy to others.

Like everyone else, you’re looking for a needle in the library stacks; doing that right will take all the unbiased patience you have.

Dear Carolyn: I’m in love with a man but haven’t told him. We have been in an on-and-off relationship for two years.

He’s moving to Seattle, and, although I’m happy for his opportunity, I don’t want him to go. I have said that in a joking way but not in a meaningful conversation.

Is this the moment to let go and say it, or, because I haven’t said it in two years, should I just let the man have a happy life without me?

— Anonymous

Dear Anonymous: Just say it, please — not to keep him but to prove to yourself that you’ll feel stronger if you try and fail than if you default to passive self-pity.